Of Truth and Language
by Vyudali
Summary: Office-worker Toris Laurinaitis uncovers one of the biggest secrets in the music industry and intends to give credit where credit is due. Unfortunately, with the risk of longtime musical rivals, The Bad Touch Trio, exposing them prematurely, Alfred - self-conscious dork extraordinaire and lyrics writer of superstar Arthur Kirkland - might not even want what he deserves. AU AmeLiet
1. Drawl Dreams

**Hetalia is the work of Hidekaz Himaruya and in no way belongs to me. All characters and musical references in this fanfiction belong to their respective owners, and will remain as such throughout the remainder of the story.**

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Los Angeles, California was a place meant for the rich and famous. High income businessmen brought their families simply for the easy access to their work and several perks that came with growing up in a city overflowing with opportunity. Hell, opportunity walked down the streets almost every hour in the form of black ties (sometimes red or metallic) and expensive shoes. With a sun shining on every head sweating hopes and dreams, it was easy to pray for your time to shine. Just sixty seconds of fame is all it took in this town to make it big. Sadly, it took the same amount of time to leave you black, brown, and blue in the streets.

Lowly office workers like Toris could only wallow in routine while the wealthy graced theaters and clubs on a daily basis, basking in the pleasure their wealth brought them. As magical as the city was, the plain brunette could only imagine copiers and tall buildings harboring stressed out suits whose highlight of the day was dramatized, equally drawl, employee gossip.

Toris loudly exhaled, his fingers cramping after spending nearly an hour typing a massive report on something he didn't particularly find interesting. His worn, black, padded chair creaked from the slightest movement, and the noise joined in harmony with multiple similar ones emitting from the cubicles taking up the brightly-lit , rectangular room. Although the noise grated on everyone's ears, it refused to make the room any more lively, and only left a stale silence with the occasional thump of footsteps or closing of a door to interrupt its repetitious unity. The only evidence of life other than the tired workers were dull posters advertising the coffee shop downstairs, or a useless event no one planned to go to, but some were unlucky enough to require their presence at. The room looked as cliche as any other office space portrayed in movies, only it did not promise an adventure with the entrance of an odd customer or phone call. If anything, it promised to entrap anyone willing to sign away their career a life of boring safety.

"Like, don't be like that Toris. You're totally going to make me depressed." Toris glanced from his computer to his childhood friend, Feliks, watching him from above his plain-white cubicle. The flamboyant blonde always seemed to be exuberant in their droll life, proven when Toris came into work one day to see the man with shoulder-length hair and proclaim cross-dressing as his hobby. His country-girl dialect and vulgarity didn't help. But, despite his...unique behavior, he remained top on his work and had no sympathy for Toris' sadness.

Toris stopped before another sigh could escape his lungs, embarrassed for his show of solemnity. "Sorry Feliks. Writing about these shallow people drives me nuts, I can't help it." He worked for the journalist department of EX Productions, famous for their top charts recording artists and musicians. Almost everyone they signed became huge, but it was their most recent success that exceeded even his expectations.

Arthur Kirkland – 'the Marauder', as he liked to call himself, was a recent singer whose voice and songs sparked unknown emotions in fans that only increased their love towards him. At his debut, a small concert performed at an outdoors party near a busy park, crowds flocked to hear the magical man whose voice called to them like a siren in the sea. What was to be a small show attracting perhaps one hundred people quickly ended up as full-blown concert with thousands of spectators. Kirkland was deemed an instant success, and his popularity only increased from there. Sporting short, messy blonde hair, impacting green eyes, and thick yet charming eyebrows; if the obsession did not breed from his looks or his music, even the most uptight bookworm would succumb to his charm from the words he beautifully sung in a soothing British accent.

Everyone was amazed someone in such a profession could write so poetically. His words trumped popular repetitious songs, inspired his listeners, and influenced quite a few public artists. At least seventy artists; ranging from sketchers, painters, and sculptors to programmers and video game designers; had sent samples of their Arthur Kirkland-inspired pieces featuring interpretations of his song lyrics, often including a letter of praise to the celebrity. Everyone assumed his British heritage was the reason for the stimulating lyrics, but Toris' dismissed that as ignorant American stereotypes.

While he appeared to be a nice guy from the one time Toris had met Arthur, he didn't feel quite the same about his fans and fellow celebrities. The mellow office worker felt sick writing up so much information about a person he'd met once, just so strangers could flock like birds to a feeder and have spasms to "a guitar tattoo on his spine and piercing on his navel."

Toris did not envy Kirkland, especially when the man attracted attention from both genders, so his fanbase was bigger than the normal pretty-faced celebrity. He had a lot more crazies because of the added size.

Recently, it was Toris' job to write more and more teasing facts about the man to keep interest going and heighten sales of his merchandise. CDs, posters, mugs, shirts.._.lingerie_. Needless to say, Toris felt tainted and dirty for being a part of the process.

Why did he ever agree to let Feliks convince him to move from his cozy home in Lithuania, move to America and work in the entertainment industry?

Caught in his inner monologue, he could only catch on to the final words of Feliks' rant. "- don't complain. We get to go to all the parties and meet famous people! That's like, my dream! I just have to wait for someone to discover me and –"

"Feliks, it's been three years. I don't want to break your spirits, but we've met majority of the producers and agents, not to mention we work here, and no one has been interested. I just don't think anyone is going to hire you to be a model..."

"Just you wait, Toris. I will be the prettiest girl on that catwalk! No one can strut their stuff better than me! I'll show you what I can do."

Toris' protests were ignored as Feliks disappeared, reappearing at the entrance to his cubicle, and beginning to mock-walk a runway. His hips swayed too much and his back arched unnaturally, but Toris felt it best not to ruin his friend's moment. He sat there, corner of his mouth twitching as he tried to keep the smile on his face watching his proud friend embarrass himself.

"Um, excuse me?"

Feliks' confident gait halted and both men turned to the blonde standing at the opening of the cubicle. He looked slightly uncomfortable having walked in on such a sight, but quickly recovered and held up a stack of manila folders. "The heads told me to give this to you Toris. Some new info about Kirkland, I think."

Almost reluctant to go near the likely dirtied folders, Toris accepted them with a small smile. "Thank you, Alfred. Honestly, I wish I could switch responsibilities with someone so I wouldn't have to type up more of his personal facts, but I suppose someone has to do it."

Alfred chuckled, the cowlick at his hairline bobbing along with the movement. "I'm sure the guy doesn't mind. After all, he's the one giving the info to us. Most of it is harmless, anyway."

"Yes, but it still makes me uncomfortable. His fans are...eccentric."

"Like, that's how most fans are, Toris. Have you _seen_ me at a _Cool Kids of Death_ concert?"

"Unfortunately..."

Alfred cackled. "You guys are funny. Well, I'd better be heading back so have a nice...whatever it was you were doing."

"I was totally showing off my moves for when I become a model."

"You don't even have an agent, Feliks..."

"I can get one! I'm totally cut out for it, right Alfred?" The hyper Polish blonde eyed the American expectantly.

Grinning, Alfred gave the man thumbs up. "Totally! I'll cheer you on every step of the way. See ya later!" With that, he waved and walked away, leaving Toris to deal with an ego-boosted Feliks.

"See Toris? Even Alfred things I can do it! You're just being negative."

"Not to be rude, but Alfred doesn't have the credibility of someone like, say, a producer. You know he's always optimistic, no matter what it is." Toris liked Alfred. He was one of the few people Toris spent lunch time happily and conversed topics other than the shallow celebrities their job required them to focus on with. But with the blonde being a simple office-worker like him, not even one that was involved with the public eye since all he did was run errands and mix some music tracks when he was allowed into the recording studio, the brunette did not think he was the right person to judge Feliks' probability as a model. Always enthusiastic, it was expected of him to encourage anyone about their success. Alfred never allowed even the most emotionally inert near his proximity to feel down.

Toris thought it was inspiring, but also naïve. Feliks, never prudent even when given steps, didn't need someone blindingly steering him towards questionable futures when they'd already drowned so far into their dream after their move to America proved fruitless. Feliks may not miss his Polish home as much as he missed Lithuania, but waking up every day realizing how far you've fallen and having nothing to make it worth the trouble only depressed Toris further. He secretly harbored ill-will towards his friend for pushing so hard, but in the end they were too connected to stay mad at each other, and Toris wished some miracle would come to send his friend into the world he claimed to want him.

At least then his friend's happiness would make everything worth it.

Disappointed, the blonde deflated slightly. "Well, you got me there. What does he do here again?"

"Errands, as far as I know," Toris answered, turning his chair to face his monitor and continue his report with tired but experienced movements which added the tapping of keyboard keys to the symphony of office-sounds.

One blonde brow arched, questioning. "Who gets a job at a high-end production company as an errand boy?"

"He could be an intern, ...I think." Alfred never mentioned his position often, and Toris began to realize he honestly did not know why the young exuberant blonde decided to work in such a dreary place. The boy was young and lively, not to mention well-off in the looks department - bright blue eyes hidden under rectangular glasses, sandy-blonde hair that parted to the left above his right eye and ended at his ears, body barely under the level of masculinity yet still toned (as far Toris could tell from the hoodies Alfred always wore). Honestly, Toris would assume he'd be the one searching for model work. Did he fall under the spell of fame and end up at he bottom of the bowl like him and Feliks_?_

"Nah, I asked him once. Totally works too many hours to be an intern here, and he gets paid, too. You know how cheap our boss is. Like, there is no way Alfred is here on school time."

"Then what do you think?"

"I don't know! Why are you asking me?"

"You brought the subject up!"

"Well, when you put it that way..."

Toris sighed once more, his usual response when Feliks proved too much for him, and returned to his article. He glanced at his notes, messily scribbled on a pink lined notepad in fading black ink, and cringed.

Why did people want to know about Kirkland's navel? Just let the man take a shirtless picture already so he didn't have to write about how "soft the underside of his belly button is, and if you trailed your hand downwards you'd feel his -"

_Ew._

Were Toris' sexuality not loose, the trash can might be filled with his regurgitated lunch. The man could only hope that the manilla folders Alfred brought did not have more intimate details.

* * *

"What took you so long?"

Alfred closed the door behind him, glancing at his childhood friend, dressed in his usual black leather pants complete with long-sleeved ripped black v-neck top that had some random design of what might be an angel, or a demon having a threesome. He was seated comfortably on a luxurious velvet leather couch across the room, drinking what Alfred assumed to be tea from a white mug. A mug with his face on it...

Alfred chose not to comment, already being used to Arthur's new egotistical nature after his rise to fame. In Alfred's mind, Arthur remained his friend. "Sorry Arthur. Feliks was being pretty fun and i got caught in his and Toris' conversation."

Arthur grimaced. "The Polish man? Honestly, I always wonder why the bloke is still working here."

"Hey, don't make fun of him. He's pretty capable, despite his...uniqueness," Alfred said, settling down rather harshly on the couch, earning a glare from Arthur.

The singer _tsked_ and looked away. "That's like saying your voice could harmonize an angry pack of wolves. No matter how much confidence one has, it is eventually their skill that will decide their success. Like your dreadful voice, Feliks' talent will only burn someone's anatomy right off."

"Hey!"

"Oh relax," he sighed, "You know I'm joking. Partially." Arthur ignored the boy's hurt expression and picked up a random magazine from the coffee table nearby. "So have you finished the new song yet? I have a tour coming up where I'm supposed to unveil my new hit." He did not look at Alfred as he talked, but instead grazed his emeralds across the magazine pages. None of the articles were interesting to him, but ignoring Alfred's eyes informed Alfred Arthur was busy and did not want to be bothered. As a result, the childish 19 year-old would not open his mouth as much and talk dribble. News about comic book artists and movies did not interest Arthur in the least, so he'd practically trained his longtime friend to remain silent if he showed specific quirks. Which he did, majority of the time.

Visibly recovering from the earlier insult, Alfred walked to a brown desk near the door. "O-oh yeah! Here," he opened a drawer and pulled out a notebook. Flipping to a specific page, he returned to his friend's side and presented him with white covered in scribbles and the occasional doodle, all surrounding three stanzas of song lyrics. "This is what I have so far. I got inspiration after watching this really cool movie about this alien woman who's not really a woman but falls in love with this guy, and there is this whole battle about rescuing the guy because he's technically trapped there, and it's really cool because they have these powers that come from dead stars or something but that's not really that important and -" Arthur turned his head the slightest inch, his eyes concentrating on a poster of his upcoming concert across the room, completely uninterested in Alfred's gush.

Abruptly, the words stopped. Alfred cleared his throat before continuing with less enthusiasm."I-i mean, reading a book! Yeah..."

Turning his head back to the notebook, Arthur snatched it from the blonde's hands and read over the lyrics. "Hmmm...," he said no other words, silently reading over every word his friend had written in that horrid handwriting of his. Alfred watched him read, eager to know his friend's opinion.

Finally, the Brit handed the notebook back without so much as glancing at the avid blue eyes boring into the side of his face. "It's good. Have it done by next week so i can practice it with the vocal coach."

Although slightly disappointed at the minimal attention (he'd been hoping for a higher praise considering how much time he'd spent coming up with the lyrics) Alfred nodded and pulled out a pencil from his pocket, biting the eraser in thought as he read over the lyrics once more. They were easy enough to write when inspired, but editing them always took him at least two hours. Alfred may have been a typical jock in high school, but his sense of perfection had not dwindled in time or his current luxurious environment. He'd labored hours into perfecting his 'imperfect American drawl,' as Arthur used to call it, and would not allow his tutor's lessons to waste. 'Good' did not satisfy the blonde, so he focused his eyes on the words, searching his mind for alterations or more specific synonyms to replace the simple ones written. Alfred did not even notice Arthur leave until he looked up to ask the bushy-browed blonde's opinion and saw his form missing on the couch.

"He's like a ninja, I swear!"

Alfred looked around the empty, tan-walled room. Aside from the couch and drawer, the adjacent wall held a mini bar harboring several small snacks and refreshments, a six foot tall lamp, and two paintings from the same collection of black blobs Alfred never understood the meaning of. Considering all the artists that sent their works to the superstar, Alfred wondered why Arthur never hung any of them up in their little 'office.' He'd asked, after all they were his lyrics, but Arthur had refused. Instead, Arthur brought in three shelves on the opposite wall of the bar for his books. Alfred hardly saw the Brit read any of them anymore, but he figured that was because of the fame they'd garnered in the past two and a half years. The company wanted Arthur's appearance on almost every event they held, and he was sure it prevented his previously bookworm, sweater-vest wearing friend to choose priorities, officially abandoning his less important hobbies.

The thought saddened the American. He wouldn't dream of abandoning video games or comic books in favor of stardom. Well, maybe... but that dream died after learning his voice made people bleed out of their ears, so he had nothing to worry about.

If he finished the lyrics fast, would Arthur have time to read like old times? Maybe they could have a book club; Arthur always liked those, as much as Alfred did not.

Alfred grabbed his bag, a black cross-body backpack decorated with the America flag print, his notebook, and headed out to the recording studio. If fate wanted him to finish early, no one would bother looking in there and see him using their equipment.

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**A/N:** This is just something i had in mind while writing _Stardust Fighters_. It won't be updated regularly, but it will be updated. I haven't written any chapters in advance for this since it's just spur of the moment idea i couldn't allow to slip away by simply writing the prompt down. I don't know what to do for the plot, so feel free to review if you want this to be half romance or something.

I'll research what LA looks like later. I tried naming a park, but when i looked up 'LA parks' a bunch of different ones came up; some without pictures.

If it gets enough interest i might be willing to dual-write. With school starting next week i'm going to have to set priorities.

_- Cool Kids of Death:_ Popular Polish alternative rock band.

Cover will change once i doodle one. Current one is not mine.


	2. Angel in the Recording Studio

Toris walked down the walkway, almost too eager to leave the workplace and head home for a nice homemade dinner - made by himself. If only Natalia had agreed go out with him, then perhaps he wouldn't be a bachelor at his age. Being single at 21 only added to his pathetic normalcy, but the brunette honestly did not blame girls for going after others in a city crawling with models and actors. Even one night stands were considered high goals in the city, but only the gorgeous and unique would be targets. Normal men like Toris never stood a chance.

He glanced at the clock, reading 6pm on its face. Feliks would have headed home twenty minutes prior, as he often went bar hopping in hopes of finding his big break. Toris had accompanied him a few times, but preferred not to be involved and opted to let his friend enjoy himself without his dull-self shading the Polish man's natural glow. With nothing to do, the man usually drove home and read, perhaps watched the occasional movie or caught up on news from his homeland. He was a simple man and relished in it, although sometimes he wished his life hadn't stunted so early in his life. Having a mid-life crisis so young should have been a sign, but Toris ignored whatever it entailed to continue his dull, peaceful days.

Someone stopped him before he could exit the room, however. "Hey, Toris! Come here would ya?"

Inwardly groaning, the brunette complied and walked over to his supervisor, a man nearly bald at the age of forty-five who dressed like a mix of hippie and 90s rocker. With the thick white beard, Toris had mistaken him for Santa Claus during a Christmas get together, only thinner than usually pictured. "Yes sir?"

"I need you to do me a favor and take this down to the recording office," He said, showing Toris a familiar manila folder. Although it looked the same as every other folder they used to deliver documents, he was sure whatever paper was tucked inside had more value than the usual ones he carried around. "Dumb asses forgot to file the documents right and had them sent to me for reviewing without sending someone to pick them up. They need them for tomorrow's session, so could you go and deliver them for me? Marge should be there to take them off your hands."

As the man's subordinate, did he really have a choice? Toris did not see a need to ask him when he got paid to follow the hippie-hybrid's orders. He reluctantly accepted the task, waving his supervisor goodbye before stepping onto an elevator to descend to the second floor.

That was another thing Toris complained about in his mind: the in-office travel. His work station resided on the ninth floor; the recording studio on the second. Every other equally important department was located far from Toris', so he often had to make various stomach-tingling trips on the elevator, stairs occasionally, to reach the other offices. He was a humble man, but when your life reduced itself to such simplicity, Toris could not help but gain a 'First World Problems' mentality. He supposed that's why Feliks nagged him so much about whining at a job that required you to sit down for hours rather than do hard labor. But then again, rough physical activity never did appeal to Feliks unless it was sex. But when was the last time Feliks had gone on a date? The man was too shy for having such a quirky personality.

The elevator stopped, creating the familiar tingle in Toris' stomach and a ring noise as the doors slid open. He quickly stepped off the elevator and turned down the hallway, trying to remember where Marge, the secretary, was. If he spotted a thick head of red, he would be fine but with the work day over and the halls empty, Toris had no sign to point him in the right direction. It had been a while since he'd visited the second floor. He hardly ever needed to step foot there and did not remember the blueprint of the hallways. Was Marge's office to the right? Left? Down the hall past the break room? He didn't know, and concluded the thirty minutes spent wandering had officially caused him to get lost.

Well this was embarrassing.

Toris stopped and looked around, unable to recognize any of the room numbers or paintings hanging on the walls. How far had he wandered?

He peeked around a corner, green eyes scanning the hall for a familiar landmark he could use for navigation. None.

The lost employee roared, arms reaching for the heavens in a frustrated gesture before they flopped back to his sides. "Am i going to be stuck here the entire night? I can't even find my way back to the elevator!"

Deciding to wing it, tired of being careful when he was clearly lost, he sped into a random hall on his right, turning left the next corner, right, left, left, right, and so on until he stopped at the end of a hallway. The blue tinted carpet ceased, switching to a gray magenta that continued on down the hall. Toris looked up to an arrow-shaped sign on the wall marked "Recording Studio." It was better than nothing, he assumed, and continued on.

This hallway felt livelier than the rest of the building. Violet walls met magenta, and shared flower decorations that livened the otherwise eerily empty pathway. There were some stuffed chairs outside of doors, visual pop art, and some posters advertising recording schedules and upcoming concerts. Compared to Toris' office space, this reminded him of a child's playground. It's bright mood did wonders for the average male, and he contently continued on, turning left at the next corner.

Instantaneously, Toris heard it.

Beats echoed down the hall, loud enough to cause vibrations through the floor so anyone walking nearby could feel every sound wave. _Is someone still recording?_ Using the studios cost money. As a result, there were strict regulations on their usage outside the normal operation time. Toris had not heard of anyone requiring their use, as most were encouraged to finish before the work day ended. Their boss was too strict to allow less-than frugal behavior with their equipment.

Knowing this, Toris crept closer, the sound guiding him to its perpetrator. As he neared its origins, Toris could make out humming. Or was it singing? He'd mistaken it as an instrument at first, but the sound he heard accompanying the steady beat definitely resembled a human voice. Toris stepped forward, careful to silence his steps so as not to be heard. The nearer he approached, the clearer the voice became. Toris admittedly did not want to interrupt it, for its sound calmed his rapidly beating heart and soothed his headache. His stress from earlier had subsided, and all that remained was the need to listen on.

What artist did he catch sneaking recording time? He wondered. Shamefully, the Lithuanian never bothered to familiarize himself with their signed artists. The only one to breech Toris' ears had been Kirkland, but that was only because of his involvement with the British man. The rest he couldn't even name correctly. He doubted he would recognize the singer in the room even if he saw their face.

Toris heard all noise stop and crept closer to a purple door bearing the plaque with "Recording Studio" at its roof, casually opening a crack large enough for the sheepish man to peek inside to see a form seated at the army of controls, rather than the live room like he originally thought. The person wrote something down in a notebook and proceeded to turn knobs and pull down levers on the controls. Curious, Toris leaned in, causing the door to creak. Startled, his breath hitched and waited for the culprit to spin around and catch him spying, but luckily whoever was inside wore large headphones and did not notice. Relieved, Toris leaned in once more and listened as the man started up the beats again, then sung in the mesmerizing voice that originally led the lost employee there.

Although Toris could not make out the person's identity (the view cut off right at the neck because of the door), he did not care. A soft melody, notes that lifted at the perfect moment, ten descended to accompanying words; the brunette felt content to stand and let his ears absorb the lulling sounds.

At least he was, until the man stopped, removed his headphones, and rolled the chair back far enough for his entire head to reach Toris' view, who instantly recognized the cowlick and voice saying, "Alright, that should be good."

Toris flung the door open. "A-Alfred?!"

The man in question jumped from his chair and turned to the intruder, eyes wide in shock at seeing another person in the room when he could have sworn the place would empty out after working hours. "Toris?! What are you doing here!"

"I-I came to drop these off," he said, holding up the folder, "and got lost. Wha-what are you doing here? Was that you singing?"

Alfred's tan skin paled. "NO! I-I mean...yes? I didn't think anyone would be here so I kinda let myself in but I swear I wasn't doing anything illegal!"

"Wha-what exactly were you doing in here?" Toris inquired, stepping further into the room and carefully inching closer to the blonde. He caught sight of the notebook, composition, open to a page filled with black words in formation of stanzas. Lyrics perhaps?

Alfred inched back, tracing Toris' gaze with his own and moving his arm to cover the notebook's view. "I, ah - um...I-I was writing down a poem! For school! Yeah..."

Eyebrow cocked, unconvinced, Toris inched closer. "I didn't know you were in school...did you fail a grade?" The question was unneeded, seeming how Toris saw zero chance of the boy still being in school with how much time he spent at the office. Alfred did not seem like someone to take night classes if he were in college.

"Wha - NO! I'm not_ that_ lame."

"I see." Toris took this time to snatch the notebook off the controls, careful to keep a finger marked on the page already open, and step back far enough for the flailing blonde to miss grabbing it back. Normally Toris would never intrude on someone's privacy, but catching Alfred,errand boy of the studio office, doing rebellious actions picked his curiosity. Toris convinced himself that his actions were innocent enough and opened the notebook to the marked page.

"Hey, don't look! That's mine! Invasion of privacy, man! Invasion of privacyyyy!"

Toris ignored the blondes outburst, trailing his eyes over the lyrics written on the page. By this time the younger male was red with embarrassment, trying desperately to retrieve the notebook from behind Toris' back, unsuccessful each time. The brunette continued reading, all while keeping the notebook just out of reach, until he met the end of the lyrics and beginning of a Batman doodle. As cute as the drawing was, the stunned employee paid it no mind. His eyes, glazed and mirroring nature's pond from the water threatening to fall, closed in peace, taking their time to absorb every word he'd just read. The sudden silence caused the blonde at his back to step away, eyeing him worriedly as Toris turned to face the lyrics' owner.

"A-Are you okay Toris? You look like you're about to cry."

Toris shook his head and wiped his eyes. He smiled and handed the boy his journal, all the while keeping the pages open to the Batman doodle. "Alfred, this...this is _beautiful_. I didn't know you wrote lyrics."

"They're not lyrics! It's a _poem."_

"But you were singing to them earlier, weren't you?"

"So what if i was?"

"Then they are lyrics."

"No they're are not! Ugh." Alfred groaned, sitting back in the chair and leaning his head back to stare at the sealing, the notebook messily flopped close on his lap. His odd behavior confused Toris. Alfred seemed to hate the very word, yet his writing clearly spoke as lyrics to the Lithuanian. He'd read an intro, chorus, second stanza, and the chorus once more. The man had heard Alfred sung it! How could he deny they were lyrics? Especially when they were such beautiful words. Toris did not understand it.

He wanted to question the blonde further, but Alfred jolted his body off the seat and began to pack his belongings in an American black backpack. Water bottle, headphones, journal...

Suddenly the frantic man turned to Toris, making the poor employee jump from the intensity of those lightning blue eyes.

"Toris, you're my friend right?"

Caught off guard by the strange question, the brunette only answered when Alfred repeated the question. "O-of course!"

"Then you can't tell anyone about this, alright? _Please._"

"I-I, uh..."

He shrieked when two large hands met his shoulders, the weight of them making him shrink under the younger man's stare. "Tell no one. I'm begging you."

Blue bore into green for what felt like hours until Toris finally answered softly, "A-alright," his normal voice muted from fright.

Alfred wasted no time after that, rushing out of the room quicker than Toris could recover. Still confused, he turned to open he door and peer into the hall.

"But wait! I -" He was gone, the hallways as empty as when he'd first arrived. The one sign of their life escaped because of his intrusion.

Pounding heart calming, Toris glanced at the manila folder still held by his shaking fingers. In all the excitement, he'd forgotten all about his assigned task, honestly surprised it managed to remain in his grip through that fiasco.

It would have been a good idea to ask Alfred for directions.

* * *

**A/N:** I'm going to be honest: I didn't think anyone would be interested in this story. I'm not sure if i'd want to make this a romance, but even then AmeLiet is not a very popular pairing in the first place and I assumed ten views were all i'd get, lol. That said, thank you all who reviewed, favorite, and viewed this story. I am a person who likes to give back, so i'll make sure to keep this updated. Perhaps not once per week like my other story, but frequently enough.

Toris' canon age is 19, but i didn't want to make him as young as Alfred considering what he does, so i settled for a little older.

Alfred's behavior stems from my belief that America can sing really well, but tends to get too excited when doing so in public, which inevitably makes him sound terrible. Because of this, he's always mocked for his bad singing and grown self-conscious about it. His Japanese voice actor is actually a really good singer, so i think Alfred has the ability to sound just as good as Arthur.

As a final note, i've said before that his was a spur of the moment story. Because of that, the genres were just chosen randomly because i don't know what this is yet. Do i want to make it half romance? I don't know. It will have some of the generic ones: drama, some hurt - we're dealing with self-conscious Alfred after all - friendship, and maybe some romance for side-characters, but any pairings involving the main duo is still under consideration. I would love feedback regarding the plot.

A song is comprised of a poem. Alfred just sucks at coming up with excuses.


	3. The Truth Comes Out

**A/N:** I'm late and don't feel bad. My tumblr will explain why.

* * *

For the next two weeks, Toris felt himself trapped in a metaphorical forest of conflict. After the incident, he'd desperately wanted to confide in Feliks. But he'd made a promise, in the end opting to kill the urge to tell his blonde friend about his encounter with Alfred. Unfortunately, said encounter refused to leave his mind.

He had many questions for the blonde - many of which he tried to ask, but Alfred always dodged the question or avoided Toris completely. If he met him at lunch, the young blonde would either dump something on himself as an excuse to leave, or yell out randomly to change the subject. If they crossed paths in the halls, Alfred would attempt to hide behind plants, trash cans, or dive into a room - one of which had been filled with businessmen in the middle of a meeting during one attempt. It had gotten to the point where even Feliks noticed the almost comical evasions and inquired on their reasoning, which only made Toris tremble fighting the urge of temptation.

Alfred's performance had been amazing; it baffled the brunette why he'd be so persistent to keep quiet about it. Was the teen shy? It seemed that way, in Toris' opinion, but completely avoiding the subject to such lengths spoke more than simply being timid. One could argue Toris was timid, mainly round a certain violet-eyed Russian, but he could relate either way. He could help Alfred out of his shell, as shocking as it was to realize the energetic blonde had one. It hurt knowing their once comfortable friendship had down-turned because of his lack of personal space. Curiosity killed the cat, he supposed.

These thoughts ate at him even as he walked to a most exciting meeting - at least, to everyone else it was.

In an attempt to heighten sales even more, a meeting would be held with everyone involved in the process attending. Marketing, advertising, writers, publishers, advisers, graphic artists, stage prop engineers, studio recorders, merchandise advisers, musical instructors, and even the back-up dancers. Toris, as the sleazy writer who satisfied fan-girl(boy)'s ever turbulent itch, was invited to attend. The topic? Arthur Kirkland.

_What a surprise, _thought Toris_. _As if the world wanted to taunt him for the remark, the meeting soon did become a surprise when everyone caught sight of their target of discussion seated at the front, casually drinking tea and munching on English biscuits. He had to discuss his job with the actual face staring at him? It was official: the world hated him.

"Alright everyone, please take your seats."

All movement changed to follow orders from their boss, Roderich Edelstine. With dark brown hair that parted above his right eye and slicked back neatly, violet eyes masked by black-rimmed glasses, and a never-ending wardrobe of outdated suits making him look like he'd stepped off Mozart's stage, he gave off the aura of pure sophistication. Not even the mole under his left cheek or long, slightly curled cowlick at his hairline could destroy the image. As an Austrian with a passion for music who owned the top recording company in LA, perhaps the entire United States, he fit his profession perfectly and now lived the American dream. Toris envied him for it.

Once the room grew silent, Edelstine began, his speech tinted with a hint of a German accent. "Now, I'm sure you all have realized that our biggest sales boom has been none other than Arthur Kirkland here," he waved a hand to the man still sipping his tea to his left, remaining uninterested in their meeting. Roderich ignored the rude behavior and continued, "But I believe we can do better. As I'm sure you all are aware, we have plans for another tour next month, and we need as much hype as possible. No ticket shall remain unsold or unused, no door left unclogged by raving fans, and no security guard left loitering in the break room."

They all understood, unaffected by the Austrian's crazy demands. To them, it was more than plausible. It had happened before, and they knew it would happen again. There is no denying Arthur Kirkland would attract more than enough people to keep everyone attentive.

"However, during this tour Kirkland will be unveiling his new hit."

Gasps resounded throughout the room.

"I want this hit to be a main point in his legacy. If we reach an even higher turnout than before, we could finally branch this company out, maybe hire more artists. I _might_ be willing to raise your wages," he tempted, almost smiling (a rarity!) at the evilness, completely aware his prudish ways irritated his employees and the promise of higher income would only heighten their determination, increasing production. Sure enough, the room grew noisy with excited murmurs and hushed glee.

Toris remained quiet, knowing well their higher pay would only come from stressing work, rivaling previous tantrums. He saw no need to celebrate just yet.

After the excitement wore off, Edelstine waved a hand across the room; a signal for silence. "Now, Mr. Kirkland is going to give you all a sample. I want all of you to use this time to take notes, indulge yourselves in the sound of the music so you can make your involvement in this project _perfection_."

More silent gasps. Even Toris never expected to get a private performance from the famous singer. He'd met the man before, but hearing him sing in person would be a new treat. He couldn't deny he was excited.

Acting on his cue, Arthur stood up from his chair after settling his tea on a coaster. He silently thanked the Austrian, who stepped back to give him room at the front of the table. "Thank you for having me," he began, addressing everyone whose attention now fixed on him. "I'm afraid the song still needs work, but I hope you enjoy what I have so far." He smiled serenely, making every female (were those males as well?) in the room swoon and blush. With grace that rivaled Roderich's sophistication, Arthur straightened his posture and motioned a slender finger towards the man, who stood by a stereo system. The Austrian pressed the play button, and a soft melody of woodwinds and steady drum beats flowed from the speakers. Arthur took a small breath, mimicked by those around the table anticipating his song, then began.

Immediately, there seemed to be a cold chill in the room. To Toris, his seat felt icy and stuck to his bottom, his body unable to move because of his frozen joints. He could see his coworkers transfixed by the man singing in their presence, but all Toris could feel was the realization of something terrible.

Kirkland's voice was heavenly, every vibrato tied perfectly at intervals to multiple abrupt ending words. The sound could be described as the wind's melody, sometimes powerful and others calm, very soothing to the ears. But while there was no denying Arthur's talented singing skill, all Toris could hear were words he'd heard before; words that melted his heart when originally heard, but only brought forth chilled numbness now. He could tell they were altered, but the message remained the same.

Arthur Kirkland was singing the song he'd caught Alfred practicing.

The realization kept him frigid in his seat, unable to feel anything but inner panic and confusion. This song, while lovely, did not connect to him like Alfred's did. It may have been similar words, but the alternations done had dwindled their magic. Was he biased because it was not the original? No, Toris did not think so. He could feel the lack of..._ something_, within the song. Whatever had been changed removed a piece of the work as well, and it was incomplete. The song remained nice, but Toris could see it could be better. Why was it changed?

_Is Alfred trying to convince me to ignore the similarities? Just because it's a little different doesn't mean I can't tell it's the same song! You shouldn't have changed it, Alfred._

Face frozen in a distant trance, Toris remained in his seat even after the performance finished and everyone left the room. He only regained his senses when Roderich shook his shoulder, asking if he was alright, and he realized the meeting was over.

"Yes, I'm fine," he answered flatly. The incredulous look his boss gave him told enough to know the man doubted his answer, but he did not voice it and left Toris to his melancholy.

He needed to know the answers to his questions. Was Alfred getting paid to make songs? What was his relationship with Arthur Kirkland? Why is it a secret? What if he stole the song and planned to release it himself? _No, Alfred's version was better. If I had to guess, it would be the other way around._

He would ask again; Only this time, Toris would not accept refusal.

He had a certain blonde to track down.

* * *

The universe must have finally turned to his favor, because as soon as he left the meeting room Toris caught sight of a familiar blonde head. Without wasting a second, he rushed to the receding back, the gap between them thinning with every step. Alfred must have heard him following because he turned to look behind him, his eyes widening comically behind his glasses, and started off in a run down the hall.

_Oh no, you don't. _He may not be as athletic as Alfred looked, but he did get involved in a little roughhousing in his younger years. Toris had kept his body physically fit as a habit of those times._  
_

The chase began, Toris quickly following the panicking teen as he turned corner after corner, drawing curious eyes from coworkers along with disapproving ones from security guards. Toris ignored all, his eyes trained on the retreating form. Eventually, Toris could see Alfred's head turning in various directions, searching for something; he understood what this meant. Now was his chance!

Alfred made an abrupt turn left, reaching for the doorknob on a nearby door. Toris sped up, practically sprinting now and leaning his body forward, hoping with all his might that he'd succeed in preventing the blonde from closing the door completely.

Just as Alfred rushed inside and turned to close the door, Toris leaped his foot into the doorway and yelped. Alfred froze, eyes turning from nervous to concerned in a matter of milliseconds. His hold on the door refused to give, though, so Toris decided to give all he had.

With watering eyes, he looked up to the distressed blonde. "Alfred, you hurt me!"

The reaction was instantaneous. "I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to, I swear! Are you okay Toris? I'm so sorry I just -," Toris took the chance and pushed his way inside, quickly closing and locking the door, much to the shock of Alfred. He blocked the only escape with his body, determination deep in his green eyes as he looked at his prisoner, huffing lightly from the excursion their chase caused.

Alfred quickly recovered, face red in a mix of embarrassment and anger. "You tricked me, no fair!"

"You've been avoiding me!" Toris countered.

Alfred stopped. "I - no I wasn't!" His blue orbs trailed the room, avoiding Toris' intense gaze. "I just always have something to do and can't talk."

"Alfred, stop lying. You're really bad at it."

Alfred remained quiet. This only increased Toris' curiosity. The blonde usually ran his mouth a mile a minute, only stopping to breathe, drink, or take a bite of food, so the fact that he didn't speak clearly showed the importance of his secret. Slowly, Toris eased his way towards the silent man, careful to keep his body guarding to the door. "Alfred, I was in a meeting today. Arthur Kirkland was there," he said, his voice low to calm the obviously nervous man before him.

Alfred flinched. Toris continued. "He sang a beautiful song. One that was very familiar to me, as I'm sure it is to you."

"That has nothing to do with me, Toris."

"Yes it does!" Surprised by the outburst, both men glared, silently analyzing one another in the room, ignorant to the office noises outside.

Toris sighed and ran a hand through his brown hair, finally lifting his eyes to look at his friend. "Alfred, I like our friendship. You are a dear friend of mine that I don't want to lose. If you want me to keep quiet I will. I already have for two weeks! But I don't want you ignoring me because I accidentally found you singing a song meant to be Arthur Kirkland's newest hit. I know it's probably none of my business, but I'm involved now. I just want the truth, since you're obviously hiding something."

Silence enveloped them once again, Toris staring at Alfred, awaiting his answer while the blonde looked torn between his decision. The Lithuanian almost thought his efforts would be in vain, until Alfred roughly exhaled, looking defeated and slumping down on a nearby sofa. Toris took a moment to realize they'd stepped into someone's office - hopefully they were out to lunch and would not return for some time.

Alfred eyed him warily. "You promise you won't tell anyone?"

Eagerly, the brunette nodded, settling down next to Alfred on the couch. The teen simply narrowed his eyes, making Toris nervous about his answer.

"I mean it Toris. You can't tell_ anyone_ about this. It would ruin a lot of work Arthur and I have done for the past two years." Arthur was involved? Well, Toris supposed he should have guessed. At least now he could cross stealing the song off his list of theories.

When Toris nodded once more, Alfred took a small breath. What he was about to do would betray the one person who'd stuck with him for years. He knew he could trust Toris, though, and couldn't ignore the relief slowly easing off his shoulders at finally letting the big secret out.

"Well... I guess you could kinda piece together everything from what you heard. I wrote that song for Arthur. I've been writing his songs for a while, actually."

"Really?"

Alfred rubbed the back of his neck. "Heh, yeah. A year before his debut, actually, so it's been a while."

To say Toris was in awe would be an understatement. He couldn't believe all of those wonderful words came from someone who did not even look like he even read books without pictures. Alfred was a mix between a stereotypical jock and nerd. He read comic books, fan-boy'd over superheroes, loved science, and was a big fan of sports. He was the perfect American, right down to his patriotic nature stemming from his convenient 4th of July birth date. Picturing the blonde leaning over written poetry, meticulously checking for errors and adding new lines was just not something anyone could really believe.

Yet Toris had witnessed that very situation and just received confirmation of its reality.

He grinned, ecstatic at learning his friend's wonderful truth. "Alfred, that's amazing! I had no idea you had so much talent in writing poetry. And your singing is beautiful too!" In his excitement, Toris failed to notice Alfred's darkening features. "I mean, you could debut by yourself and become an instant hit!"

"No."

"Wha -," the dark look Alfred gave him made Toris shiver with fear. "W-what do you mean, 'no'?"

"I mean, 'no'. I can't betray Arthur like that. He'd kill me if he knew I'd told anyone."

Hearing the famous singer's name brought back something Toris had been wanting to ask. His brows knitted, he asked, "Alfred, what is your relationship with Mr. Kirkland?"

Alfred hesitated before answering. "He...he's my best friend." Toris' eyes widened at the unbelievable statement. "We've known each other since we were kids. I guess you could say he was kind of like a big brother to me. We kind of broke apart for a while, but rekindled during high school. Once he graduated, he began his music career and I started writing lyrics for him in my spare time to help with his hectic schedule. After I graduated three or so years later we began this partnership thing. I write; he performs."

"Why doesn't he write his own songs? Is he no good?"

"He doesn't have the time. Even singing in random clubs, he was popular. He got booked so much he couldn't find the time to make up the songs. I'd been working with an English tutor to fix my bad writing skills and decided to help him out as practice. It became a thing for us after a while."

Something did not sit right with Toris. Their partnership seemed reasonable enough, but why keep it a secret? Moreover... "Why don't you perform?" Toris couldn't stop the words before they'd already left, but he wanted to know why the blonde didn't take his obvious talent further. If he and Kirkland had become a duo, their popularity would have surely reached unheard of proportions. The roaring fans would outweigh any other ever in existence.

He almost regretted asking after seeing Alfred grimace. "Dude, are you kidding? My singing is terrible! Arthur and a bunch of people have said so. I'm not even allowed to sing in the shower if they're nearby it's so bad."

"Alfred, what I heard in that recording studio was far from terrible! You are an amazing singer. Are you shy? Is that why you chose not to become a performer?"

"What? Pfff, Alfred F. Jones is _not_ shy. Look Toris, I appreciate the confidence boost on my lyrics, but you can't convince me that my singing won't make your ears bleed. That's why Arthur and I are partners. I can't sing or look good, but he can. He has the whole British thing going on and can get much more fans than I ever could. I don't think I'm really cut out for being on stage."

Did Toris hear all of that correctly? Alfred had a completely different view of himself than everyone else did. To others, it was easy to picture the sunny blonde waving to fans, running around the stage, happily dancing and singing to a crown of admirers. If the man wasn't shy, then how could he not picture the same?

More importantly: who convinced Alfred his singing made ears bleed? He mentioned Arthur and others, but what kind of friend would convince him of something clearly untrue?

At this point he was trailing fragile grounds, and decided to move on to his next question rather than push Alfred more. "If I may ask, why are you keeping this a secret? It should be simple to have the studio give you credit for the lyrics than say Kirkland wrote them."

"Well...the studio doesn't know I write them." Just then, Toris' expression resembled a suffocating fish. "It would kinda be pointless to do now, you know? Some of Arthur's fans might think it's a huge betrayal of trust and not like him anymore. Not to mention how the media will take it. I can already see "The Marauder is a FRAUD!" all over the news." He flailed his arms to demonstrate the chaotic scene.

"But Alfred, don't you want recognition?

"I... sometimes I do, but I don't think it's worth the risk. I'm fine helping Arthur. Seeing his success lets me know my writing is good. That's enough for me."

Toris wanted to yell at the blonde. Here he was, far from home and working a desk job because his friend couldn't make it as a model and he was just an average Joe, yet Alfred - talent rolling off his shoulders like the rich waters of Niagara Falls - was unwilling to accept his gift, instead opting to give it away to someone clearly playing him like a fool, taking all the credit for himself. Would Arthur Kirkland be as popular without Alfred's magical words? Toris desperately wanted to test his thoughts.

Arthur must have seen Alfred as a threat of some sort to his musical career - that had to be it. It would be the only reason the American felt so low about himself. The unfairness of it all enraged Toris. As meek as he was, he was also a very determined man when needed. He refused to allow Alfred to shrug off the situation. Unlike himself, the American had every tool at his disposal to fulfill his dreams - all he needed was perseverance to reach them.

Feeling very unlike himself, Toris leaned close to the blonde, noses almost touching and causing the confused (and slightly afraid, seeing those blazing green eyes) teen to bend backwards on the cushion. "Wh-what are you doing?"

"Alfred, have you ever considered debuting yourself?"

"Huh?"

"You know, starting your own career."

Alfred was aghast. "D-didn't you hear anything I said? No way can I do that to Arthur!"

"Forget about Arthur! I'm talking about _you_."

Puzzled, Alfred stared at Toris quizzically. "Toris, I think you're forgetting that I can't sing."

"Bullshit."

The bespectacled blonde could barely contain his shock at hearing his usually quiet coworker actually curse. Was Hell coming down today to reap their souls?

Toris, however, was completely serious in his suggestion. "Alfred, you can sing. I think you have a lot of talent that Mr. Kirkland is claiming for himself, and it is unfair for you to sit back and let him take the credit from you."

"Toris, I really don't mind... "

"But you said you thought about getting recognition, did you not?"

The American slowly nodded.

Toris smiled. "I believe you can do it then. You don't need to mention your work for Mr. Kirkland, or even your relationship with him. You could start your own separate career by yourself."

Alfred seemed to contemplate the idea, intrigued yet unsure of the consequences if he stepped out into the lights of stardom. But he had words, fancy language created from blending vocabulary and sound; nothing more. Why did Toris insist on his singing ability? "I...Toris, I don't know. I mean, I did want to go into music a couple years before, but I can't sing. I know you think my singing is good, I did too at one point, but that may just be the lyrics messing with your brain. I've sung in front of a crowd before and it wasn't pretty."

Scrunching his nose, the brunette almost wanted to slap him. He _could_ sing! Why couldn't he see that? Unwilling to accept defeat, he persevered. "Alfred, if I prove to you you can sing, will you give having a career for yourself a chance?" Perhaps if the blonde heard people cheer him on for his amazing voice, he'd be willing to try and make a life of his own. One that would not be tied to a certain British musical sensation. Alfred deserved that.

"I- I guess..."

Those words were all Toris needed. He nodded and stood from his position on the couch, heading towards the door. "Alright, then meet me in the parking lot after work." He left the room, unwilling to allow the surely flabbergasted blonde to protest. Toris was certain the man's sincerity wouldn't let him miss their meeting if he didn't give a chance to fight back. For now, he needed to track down a certain Polish friend.

His stomach twirled and did various somersaults at his excitement. He had a mission now - a small piece of irregularity in his normally dull existence. And for once, he relished it.

Alfred had a chance - no, a _certainty _of success in this business. Toris fully intended to give his friend the limelight that rightfully belonged to him, even if it meant plotting behind their company's biggest money-makers.

* * *

**A/N**: I _would_ write lyrics...but i _can't_ write lyrics. Plus, music is very subjective as people have varying tastes around the world. The best i can say is to imagine the best music ever in _your_ opinion.

Thank you for that really long review, Kyh! It helps to gain insight from the readers. And yes, I scare people with how fast I type, but that's only if I have exactly what I want to write already in my mind. The last chapter was already planned in my head so all i had to do was write it. This one, however, i needed time to think for.

Just to inform you all: I am an America/Liet supporter (pretty unbiased with majority of pairings), but i'm not too keen on including romance for the sake of smexy fan fodder. I will go ahead and make this AmeLiet, but their romance won't be the focal point of this story. I will have fun with it though. ;D

All of your other questions will be answered. To the one about Belarus: Originally, the story's summary said something along the lines of "Toris and _friends_ embark on a mission to convince Alfred he has talent blah blah blah." Emphasis on 'Friends', so I plan to include her, yes. At first, my intentions were to put more characters in the story settings, but the site was being really stupid and kept putting England first so I was like _**No. Stahp. He doesn't belong there. **Stardust Fighters_ will be updated next.


	4. Karaoke Night

"Toris, what is this?"

The bright neon sign read "Feel Karaoke" in stretched Korean letters surrounded by black, joining the rest of the ensemble on the late night scene advertisement parade. There were bars, dance clubs, stores, and cafes all around the area, but Toris had led their group to this place in particular, never once sparing a glance to the other temptations for their night outing. Even as people walked by unaware of the tense atmosphere between two young men on a night out, he kept his stance firm. To anyone passing by, speaking to others or taking a walk to admire the night life of one of America's busiest cities, they would catch a glance of at least an octuple of friend, dressed casually and readying for a night of food and singing. In reality, one of these young men was on a mission, and another his unfortunate victim.

Toris saw Alfred's almost scared look and his confidence crumbled. Although he had been initially excited to show Alfred the place, now he was not so sure of his choice. "It is a karaoke bar. One of my coworkers recommended it to Feliks, who in turn told me. You know, the really happy Korean?"

Alfred nodded while his attention remained glued to the intimidating sign. "Oh, yeah...why karaoke?"

"You remember our discussion, right?" There would be a problem if he forgot about it already. Toris did not want to have their talk again, especially in public.

Alfred nodded, quelling his fears. "Well, yeah but - I just honestly thought it would be a thing between the two of us, not...with others," He referred to the rest of their group. In addition to them, Feliks had tagged along and invited miscellaneous coworkers from diverging offices. Toris only recognized a few while the rest mingled as add-ons to their party. Mentioning a night out in their building meant at least five people would tag along. With Roderich's announcement earlier that day, everyone would most likely want to have one night of fun before they dived into weeks of stressing effort to earn the pay raise promised. The few people who had joined them tonight were the ones interested in singing than drinking themselves into a hangover stupor. In Toris' opinion it was a smart choice, but he was almost positive they would order alcohol anyway.

Still upset, Alfred sighed. "I dug my own grave when I agreed to it, but when you invited me for a night out as part of your mission...I dunno. I wasn't expecting you to prove it this way." His blonde brows knitted, clearly upset with the turn of events.

Regret blossomed in Toris' chest. He didn't want to upset Alfred, he wanted to help him! His method of choice was indeed a little forward, but for someone like him - who always asked permission before using someone's bathroom or chose to ignore commotions in the office - the rush had overpowered his rationality. Almost out of a new-found instinct, Toris wanted to have Alfred realize his wonderful gift in the brightest way possible. Wanted to see the blonde shine on his own and, most importantly, prove himself right against Alfred's claims.

Even so, the strong knitting feeling of guilt remained.

"I-I'm sorry. We can go if you'd like?" They could go to a regular bar - oh, wait. Alfred is not legal. Well, a restaurant to eat? Oh, but the others would most likely ask for alcohol there as well. Oh! He and Alfred did not have to tag along with them; they could do their own thing. Hell, even the strip club would be fine! So long as Toris could return the smile to his friend's face it did not matter where.

Just then, Feliks walked up to them with a slight skip in his gait and completely in his element; desk work really did not suit his personality. Instead of the suit, he wore loose maroon pants tucked into mid-knee-high brown boots. He'd traded the bland gray jacket for just his write dress shirt (cuffs unbuttoned) and a striped black vest. Feliks' neck was wrapped in a checkered red scarf to complete the look. In all honesty, Toris almost felt self-conscious coming here in his work clothes, minus the jacket. Having Alfred next to him wearing his casual blue hoodie almost made him feel better, but with how much the blonde naturally glowed in the night light it did not help his insecurity in the least.

Upon hearing Toris' suggestion, the bubbly Polish frowned. "Oh hell naw! We came all the way here and I intend to enjoy myself. We'll sing the cheesiest songs, pig out and drink so much we'll need our mothers to call our friends to dig our bodies from the gutter."

"I'm not legal yet, Feliks," informed Alfred flatly.

"Oh you poor baby," Feliks cooed. He grabbed the only two males still waiting outside and pulled them towards the entrance. "No harm done if we sneak you a few sips. Come on!"

Everything after that was a blur. Toris could still tell Alfred was nervous, but he ignored it for now. He watched Feliks handle the employees with surprising ease. They paid, then practically bounced to their reserved room. In minutes, their group seated themselves around a large, dimly lighted room of cushioned chairs and three small circular tables. A flat screen hung at the front along with the singing equipment, most notably the microphone. Toris smiled seeing it, but when he spared a peek to Alfred, his own disappeared at the blonde's apparent nervousness. He'd never seen him so stressed; it worried Toris knowing what he had planned. He chose to keep ignoring it for now, paying no mind to Alfred's tight expression and nibbling lip. He figured if pushed enough, the blonde would sing at least one song.

One song is all he needed.

Seeing how Alfred did not appear to plan on moving from his spot by the door, Toris quickly guided the stiff blonde to a seat near the back. Best to start off slow.

Together, they watched the others situate themselves, look over the menu and discuss the available songs. Toris relaxed instantly, seeing everyone so happy at 8pm when most were slouched or drowning in sorrow at 3pm. Even Feliks did not seem to be catching his shy bug. Instead, his happy friend flipped through option after option on the song screen, calling out whenever he recognized a song only to continue sliding through the list. It always amused Toris how such a hyper socialite like Feliks could be so quiet around strangers. Without the bashfulness, Feliks was a party machine hell-bent on getting everyone involved. Toris knew if he saw Alfred sit in the back without at least one song sung in his record, he would make it tonight's mission to have the blonde on the stage no matter what. At least now he could be an asset to Toris' plans.

"Looks fun, right Alfred?" He smiled, hoping it looked genuine enough.

The entire time Alfred had been glaring holes into the floor and occasionally the door, but he broke his nonexistent argument with the carpet at Toris' question. He offered a small smile, although it did not reach his eyes. "Uh, yeah...Fun. Real fun."

Biting his own lip, Toris chose a different tactic. "Alfred, you don't have to go up there if you don't want to." Oh yes he would, but Toris' wouldn't admit that.

At this, Alfred looked at him wide-eyed. "R-Really?"

"Mhm, I can just find another time to do the other thing. We should have fun tonight. Is that alright with you?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course. Oh man, that's a load off my back," he laughed, officially returning to his happy demeanor. All traces of his earlier somber mood vanished on sight.

"I'm glad." Toris continued to smile, although his own did not reach that spot of honesty every curve of the lips should touch when being genuine. Alfred didn't seem to notice and proceeded to look through his food menu once he saw it placed expertly on the table.

In a few minutes (really about an hour), their party would become loose enough to allow what their company specifically deemed inappropriate harassment. The gentle conversations of daily occurrences changed to loud whining of annoying friends and coworkers. Gossip at its best, Toris found. Vibrations from the sound system hammered at his ears. If it weren't for the small bit of alcohol he'd drunk, Toris might have left on account of a blinding headache. But Toris was buzzed and carefree for the most part, still coherent but unbound from his usual rigid composition. He could still make out the face of whoever groped his chest and that bearded fellow across the room making out with a female employee. The tipsy brunette couldn't recall who they were specifically, but he didn't care since they would most likely never see each other for a long time. He noted Feliks pink-faced and jumping about, trying to get another participant to sing one of the Korean songs. They'd gone through most of them in drunken choruses of slurred vowels and out of tune pitches. So far, only two of the guys present and one girl really knew how to blow their pipes.

Toris knew the real treasure was still sitting next to him, for the most part sober seeing as how Feliks had not lied about sneaking him a couple of sips from whatever alcohol he could force onto the underage boy. Alfred had gone the most of the night silent aside from the occasional laughs when the others made complete fools of themselves. Everyone had expected him to be the life of the party, but he'd remained in his seat the entire night, only getting up to reach for fries or other delicacies brought in early on to munch the night away.

It honestly frustrated Toris how Alfred managed to avoid getting called up. He'd been forced to sing at least three songs in the last hour, all of which he mumbled through because they were in Korean. If he had to suffer the humiliation, so did Alfred.

Which is why at that precise moment he chose to glance at the still wobbling Feliks. Their eyes met, green on green in silent accord.

Prior to coming to the karaoke place - no, earlier than that. Right after Toris had spoken with Alfred, he'd raced to find his flamboyant friend for a suitable place to oust the singing prodigy. Feliks would not ease up until he'd received at least part of the 'big secret,' all too curious as to why his usually bland and quiet friend now held his arm in a tight grip, asking about a karaoke place with eyes that beamed in the most frightening, green viper strike. Caught in the trap of the serpent's tail, Feliks had surrendered with a catch. Half an hour of persuasion later, Toris had reluctantly told him of Alfred's secret - the first part anyway. Any connection to Arthur Kirkland still remained confidential.

The silent agreement ended. Grinning, Feliks bounced over to his table.

"Alfred, I think you're the only one who hasn't gone tonight." Alfred stopped his munching to stare blankly at Feliks. "It's your time to shine, baby! C'mon!"

Dropping his burger as Feliks grabbed a hold of his arm and pulled him towards the stage, Alfred pleaded to Toris to stop his friend. In response Toris feigned drunkenness, waving and giving a lazy smile to the retreating pair. The blank expression quickly turned to one of panic, almost making Toris feel bad for plotting against the oblivious blonde. He pushed the annoying infiltration to the back of his mind, intent on having Alfred fulfill his promise.

"We'll make you sing the best song!" Cheered Feliks, frankly ignoring Alfred's discomfort.

The boy quickly turned to his kidnapper in confusion. "W-ha? But I don't -" View of the stage increased with each step, almost like an omen inviting anyone to test their resolve or suffer the consequences. As the two passed, others cheered for Alfred's performance, encouraging the nervous teen. Toris felt relieved knowing he would get support. As he'd quickly learned early into their friendship, Alfred loved the approval of others. Toris hoped the encouragement would be enough to get the blonde to start at least the first chorus of a song - one stanza to let Alfred show the soft vibrato of his voice, or the serenity of a single note change. Anything! The crowd would respond positively and Alfred would realize what his future held. All Toris had to worry about now is what song Feliks chose.

_Please don't let it be Korean. Or rap._

Despite how drunk he was, Feliks' strength never relented. He pushed the stunned Alfred onto the platform, righting the microphone stand to fit his height. "Nonsense! Let's go go go! Fun is what we came to have and you aren't contribut-ing!" A manicured finger pointed to Alfred, the carol of the last word giving the message of having done something wrong. Although it sounded like Feliks was reprimanding him, the amused grin the clearly intoxicated blonde wore betrayed any real threat of profession. Instead, the down-turned brows and sleazy curve gave one message: "_Do what I tell you or else."_

Alfred swallowed. "B-but, I can't sing."

"Neither can most of us, but that doesn't matter. We're here to have fun, right guys?!" Cheers answered his call and Feliks turned back to Alfred in triumph.

Their coworkers, drunk and high off the buzz from sweet liquor and good food, raised their arms high, waving or pumping the air to signal their approval. Toris conformed to their desires and lifted a half-empty shot glass, downing the rest before raising it once more, making Feliks chuckle at his friend's rare moment of inebriation. "Besides," he told Alfred, "we're too drunk to care if you suck or not. Now sing! I have the perfect song."

Denying Alfred a choice in the matter, Feliks rushed to the screen and chose the song he'd specifically ignored for the entire night, waiting for the perfect chance to play it on a specific person. He selected it and the soft melody of introductory instrumentals of brass and fast beat began to echo in the room. More cheers resounded from the drunk audience who recognized the song instantly.

The vocals came on and Toris had to roll his eyes. Katy Perry. Seriously? His now glazed green eyes observed Alfred, satisfied when he appeared to recognize his assigned song as well. In response, the blonde's tan skin reddened; probably from embarrassment. He made to move away from the stage but a loud chant quickly erupted from the now somewhat sober group of individuals watching the poor boy's predicament. Toris once again joined in, intent to keep Alfred on that platform and singing in the next few seconds. He'd already missed the first stanza.

"Alfred! Alfred! Alfred! Alfred!"

"C'mon Alfred! The good part's coming up!" Feliks yelled over the chant. It was a wonder no one had come in to complain about the noise. Even if the walls were coated in sound-proof material, someone had to have walked by and wondered why there was a call to arms happening inside.

On the stage, Toris noticed Alfred surveying the room. The lights shined against his glasses lens, blinding him briefly and he blocked the glare with his hand. _"_Sing already_",_ he urged silently_._ If he recalled correctly, this song only lasted for a little over three minutes. Alfred had let a good portion of the song pass already, and the big chance to show off would be the chorus soon to play. Toris breathed in relief when Alfred licked his lips and positioned the microphone carefully above his mouth. "D-do you ever fee..l?" His timing was off and the words were but mere mumbles of breath than notes of a song. Three lines passed before Alfred even spoke, not sang, again.

"..s-still a chance for you."

Toris grew frustrated. He's expected Alfred to blank out from fear, but this was ridiculous. In his mind Alfred would gain confidence after being drunk and seeing others fail. Unfortunately, Toris had forgotten Alfred couldn't drink. The only alcohol he'd sipped did nothing to his sobriety. The crowd worked in Toris' favor, but Alfred refused to cooperate. He watched helplessly as the blonde continued to mumble broken lyrics, off-key and late. Apparently everyone else shared his sentiment if only a little bit because some of the coworkers began to sing along to the words, throwing more cheers to the blonde up front, wanting to embolden the strangely shy nineteen year old onstage. Astonished, Toris joined the chorus.

_"'Cause there's a spark in you? You just gotta ignite-"_ Euphonious vocals continued on, ignorant to the singer's mistakes.

Alfred tried to keep up unsuccessfully. "U-um, ignite th-the night...the light...shine, um."

"Come on Al! Fireworks!" Someone yelled.

He fidgeted with the hem of his hoodie. "Let it shine..."

"Yeah! Keep going!"

_"_You can do it!"

"Can't be worse than me!"

At the last comment, Alfred smiled; still a ghost of its normal glory but a smile nonetheless. "_Own_ the the_ night_..," he halfway sung, first and last words being the only instances to heighten in pitch.

"Whoo! Go Alfred!"

Alfred tried again. "Like the_ fourth_ of_ July._" More cheers and clapping erupted from the crowd. Toris wanted to cheer and hug every dunk bastard in the room for their assistance, but he remained focused on Alfred. He noticed the blonde continue fidgeting with is clothes, tensing at the next line of the song.

"Baby you're a...Fi-re-wooork...," Alfred stopped, cheeks red, head facing the carpet once more. "I c-can't do it," he mumbled into the microphone.

_Don't give up Alfred._ Toris stood from his seat. "Sure you can! We're here to enjoy your singing, Alfred!"

"Yeah! Give it your all!" One drunk man slurred.

Another joined in. "C'mon Alfred!"

Nervous feet continued to twitch on stage. The mouth belonging to them opened for one short sentence. _"_Show them what you're worth."

"Talking the words doesn't co-unt!" Feliks sung, earning short laughter from the others. Alfred almost looked offended, but when he returned the held the microphone to his mouth once more, the lyrics were monotone no more. Instead, his expression reflected determination.

To Toris' relief, all of the chanting seemed to finally bring Alfred confidence. Even if only a small amount the blonde gradually began to keep up with the singer, missing only a spare word or two in between. He appeared frustrated, but in a good way that motivated him to try harder for the people cheering him on. "_Oh_..._oh_._.Oh_...As you shoot across the _sky- y- y_!" Words spoken under anxious breath became louder, gaining a tone to match those of the singer. As Alfred began to actually sing rather than speak the words, more of those in the crowd joined the mantra of optimistic yells. Some even began to clap to the rhythm. The entire room almost resembled a live concert, were it not for Alfred's restrained half-singing.

Alfred sung louder and Toris heard his voice crack.

_Huh, that was weird,_ He thought, brushing it aside when his excitement rose with each boost of Alfred's confidence. Too engrossed in a phase of mid-drunkenness and cheerful employee integration, he didn't notice the following throaty gruff, not even as Alfred's voice rose to an almost inhuman screech. High off alcohol, no brain registered those small breaks of harmony.

The song's beat vanished and all noise lessened to ready for the best part of the song. Alfred's voice lowered considerably. "_Igni-te the light. Let it shi-ne._"

A particularly drunk audience member screamed, "Own the night Alfred!"

Alfred took a dramatic breath.

_"BABY, YOU'RE A FIIIIIIIIIIREWOOOOOOORK! COME ON, SHOW 'EM WHAAAAAT YOU'RE WOOOOOOORTH! MAKE 'EM GO "OO, OOOH, OOOH." AS YOU SHOOT ACROSS THE SKY-Y-Y!"_

Something shocked through Toris' head and he fell out of his drunk state. He felt sticky. Toris looked down to see he'd dropped the glass of whine he'd been pouring. His fingers were stained with trails of red, reminding him of the bleeding heart his surely resembled when Natalia refused his love. He glanced down to each drop that slowly separated from his fingertips and made a slow descent to his feet. The carpet grew a red splotch, ugly and bleeding until every drop was absorbed into the probably already dirty fiber. More unnerving was how it reminded Toris of death, of dying, of - _killing._

What poor animal was dying in the room? Who had the audacity to bring a live animal and slaughter it mid-performance? Toris searched for the perpetrator, expecting a shrill from one of the women or a curse from Feliks, but he found none. In fact, everything seemed to have gone silent except for -

_Oh. _No longer glazed, Toris' eyes watched as Alfred sung his heart out onstage. To his disbelief, the heavenly sound he'd desperately wanted to hear once more; to show off to Feliks and everyone present - well, it wasn't even _close_ to being present. Instead, Toris' stomach dropped and dread gripped him tightly in its hold when he realized Alfred, the only one making a noise at this point, was also the one mimicking the death of a small, defenseless creature. In his shock the brunette had dropped his glass and its contents, now noticing small shards accompanying the pool of bloody liquid on the floor. It must have hit the table, its sound knocking Toris out of his trance to gawk at the blonde, unmindful of his now speechless audience, still screeching into the poor over-stressed microphone.

In one instant their joyous concert had turned to a silent mob of disquiet.

Toris heard the chorus coming again, trepidation setting for Alfred's preparing breath. He anticipated another loud monster cry; grating to the ears and painful as a sight for Toris to watch the blue-eyed blonde 'sing.' When the noise cutoff mid-word and a sharp static sound shot off the speakers, officially ending any communication from the microphone to them, Toris (along with everyone else in the audience) sighed in relief. He uncovered his ears, unaware he'd had his hands on them in the first place, and watched as one of the previously drunk men straightened his bent form, the hand clutching a black outlet cable releasing it quickly.

"Uh, sorry man. Stepped on the cord, haha..." Toris saw how much bull that was. Everyone else probably did as well. Pitifully, that meant Alfred did as well.

Upon the cut-off, Alfred had frozen in his place, mid-jump with one arm raised high to the ceiling. It broke Toris' heart to see that joyous expression disappear, slump really so that he resembled something of a combination between a kicked puppy and an indifferent mother. He didn't bother to speak, or laugh it off - Alfred remained silent even as his body slumped, the raised arm hitting against his pants leg as it lowered and he rushed off stage. Toris wanted to follow, but the shock of what had just occurred fixed him to his seat. Instead, he watched silent with everyone else as Alfred almost ran to the door in the midst of their scrutiny.

The awkward silence quickly died when the door banged open to reveal a girl dressed in Asian attire, long brown braid swaying with her body as she took a martial arts stance and glared at every wide-eyeball still following Alfred on his trail to the exit. "Are you people killing an animal in here?! We don't allow weirdos into our rooms!"

Toris gaped. Some unforgiving bastard dared to chuckle in the back. Another person coughed. The Asian girl narrowed her eyes. "_Well?!_"

Alfred quickly slipped by the girl, earning an angered call that he plainly neglected. Toris chose this moment to rush past her as well, ignoring her to listen for the hurried steps of Alfred's retreat. They were quick so he ran to catch up, turning the corner of the hall just in time to catch a yellow speckle in the distance head into the lobby and exit through two double glass doors. Toris followed, taking a second to give the two people at the counter an apologetic glance before sprinting in the direction he thought he saw Alfred go.

The night air instantly sobered what little buzz he had. With the cloud of alcohol gone, Toris breathed in the cold to calm himself, looking around in search of another blonde spec. He spotted it and gave chase, following the head of wheat down the street, past cafes and full family restaurants. People stared questionably at the running duo, but Toris paid them no mind. He focused on Alfred's running form, turning in time with him as he changed course and dove into a dark alley way. Toris stopped at the entrance, uneasy about going in there at night. "Alfred, wait!" He hoped the blonde would reconsider his choice of escape. To his dismay, the blonde did not listen and continued on, faster. Reluctantly, Toris followed. He watched ahead as all light from the busy street behind them vanished and the small path became enveloped in eerie darkness. The cold air bit and dried his throat, his breaths becoming ragged with each haphazard inhale.

Toris struggled to increase his pace, his legs unprepared for a nightly run, but he managed until the alley opened to a deserted park surrounded by trees. A small playground sat on a base of sand illuminated by yellow street lights. In them, he saw Alfred nearing the other side and called out desperately, reaching for the blonde as his legs worked to keep up the pace, "Alfred, please! Stop!" He smiled when Alfred stopped and looked back, but his heart instantly stopped when he caught the deep, cold scowl aimed his way. Toris inched closer carefully, finding the scene fairly familiar only much more frightening. Back in the studio he was the one cornering Alfred. At that moment, Toris felt like the hunter at the brink of becoming prey.

"A-Alfred, what- " He didn't really know what to say or ask. Nothing could make sense of what had happened in that karaoke room. "It...You shouldn't worry about it."

Toris flinched when Alfred let out the most feral growl, turning on his heel to stare menacingly at the shorter man. If not for the faint trace of oncoming tears in those blue eyes, he would have been scared to death. Not to say he wasn't petrified of the Alfred he now faced. "Don't give me that bullshit, Toris." Said man was stunned. Alfred cursed few times, usually in a comical way to express his distaste. Toris had never heard him curse so savagely before. "How could you do this?! Now the entire office is going to be laughing at me because of _you_!" The seething blonde clenched his fists, making Toris fear for the structure of his face.

"Alfred I'm sorry! I just- I don't know, I," He raked his head with his nails, trying to come up with an explanation but failed to think of anything, "- What in the world were you doing back there?!"

Alfred stomped the ground with enough force to make Toris feel the vibrations through his own shoes._"Nothing_! I was doing _nothing_, Toris! You want to hear my 'amazing' singing voice? Well there it is laid out like a burnt up turkey!"

"That is a lie!" Toris insisted, sizing up the blonde. They were only about a foot apart now, glaring into each other's eyes; intent to prove the other wrong. "What I heard coming out of your mouth in the recording studio is proof of that!"

"Then the doctor has an appointment ready for you Toris. Might want to tell him about the ear infection you have!"

Toris felt the rush of Alfred's breath on his face. He found himself breathing roughly from the exhaust of their exchange. He'd never been one to raise his voice, much less practically spit on someone in anger. The silence grew and grew until their breaths calmed along with their beating hearts. Toris heard a cricket in the distance and wondered if it was mocking him.

Alfred finally spoke. "I don't know what you heard, but I can't sing Toris. Deal with it." He sounded calm, but Toris could still hear the faint traces of his outrage. Without another word he walked by Toris, the brunette allowing him to pass, not a single protest uttered. What would be the point? The blonde wouldn't listen; Toris didn't blame him after what he'd put the man through. What kind of friend was he to force Alfred into such a position? It was best to let him go. Toris didn't want to hear his retreating steps and was thankful when they no longer cut through his eardrums. He was left in the middle of the playground under a blinding light and taunting cricket.

Eventually Toris felt oncoming fatigue course through his system. All the drinking, running, and screaming finally caught up to him. He wanted to throw up, but held it down for the sake of causing less trouble for himself. Sparing a child's sanctuary of his sick was good too. Instead walked to the swing set, separated from the rest of the equipment on the opposite end of the playground, and collapsed into one of the seats, causing the chains to grate his ears with their annoying clanking. Right then he wanted peace and quiet, not those cackles of the stupid child toy. He'd only sat for a few minutes, head in his hands dejectedly, when the sound of footsteps joined those wretched chains.

Toris looked up, half expecting (hoping) it to be Alfred. What emerged from the alley was blonde like Alfred, but the form and height matched his best friend rather than the angered boy. Toris nodded and Feliks joined him then. He sat in the swing next to him and gently swayed, but didn't talk. At some point, Toris began to realize his friend might have heard the altercation. That wouldn't be good.

But Feliks said nothing. They shared a hushed moment, enjoying the night scenery and natural sounds of the environment. The moon was full and cast a beautiful glow against the clouds, disappearing and reappearing with each passerby. Toris felt calmer after a while, at which point Feliks must have noticed because he finally faced his friend to talk.

"Sooo, Alfred has the voice of an angel, huh? The dying animal back there could have totally fooled me."

Toris groaned in response. This conversation was inevitable, but that did not mean he had to like it. He huffed. "I wasn't lying, Feliks. I heard him. I wish you could have too, but...I don't know. He sounded nothing like that day. I wish I understood what happened. Talent doesn't just -_ disappear_."

Feliks hummed, fixing his gaze onto the play set nearby. Toris did as well, if only just to feel like he wasn't just wallowing in his sorrow. He noted a slide, a Jungle Jim, some bars and two towers with ladders. A child's paradise, really. If he were smaller he wouldn't hesitate to jump up the stairs and slide down - to feel free during the descent while the wind brushed his hair in a gentle caress. It would be great to be a child again. No responsibilities? Hell yeah.

"I doubt you're lying about it, so I won't fight you about that," Feliks said, startling Toris. "I do want to get to the bottom of this though."

He blinked. "You do?"

The blonde chuckled. "Well, duh. You're a smart guy Toris. If you think Alfred has a gift meant for Hollywood, I really want to hear it for myself. It might be hard considering what we just heard, and how pissed off he must be at you right now-"

Damn, he _had_ heard them. Toris couldn't catch a brake, could he?

"-but that's nothing some good ol' fashioned blackmail can't fix."

He gasped. "Feliks!"

"I'm _kidding._"

The two of them laughed. After years of friendship, these small talks were as normal as they were comforting. Toris silently thanked their fateful meeting. As exhausting as Feliks could be sometimes, Toris would never trade the man for any one or any thing. The swings were close enough to where their shoulders almost touched, so Toris leaned his head against the other. "Thank you. You haven no idea what that means to me."

Feliks wrapped a arm around his shoulders, squeezing them closer together. The swings let out a small squeak in protest. "Hey, we're friends, it's expected. You let me drag you all the way across the ocean. The least I can do is help you in a little scouting. I'm with you every step of the way!"

Toris smiled. Locking arms, the two of them stood and began the walk back to their car.

"Besides, you left me with a bunch of drunk asses and a really angry Vietnamese girl. Like, I need my revenge."

* * *

**A/N**: -Italics: When he's singing (or at least trying to). Or should I use bold for that? I think I should. I'll edit this when I think about it. Or tell me your preference?

-"Feel Karaoke" is real. The sign description is based on two pictures I found of it on Google. I have no idea how a karaoke place works and apologize if I've gotten anything wrong. I've heard of places having stages and others where the mic is passed around the table. I liked the stage better.

-Why "Firework" by Katy Perry? Because I needed a popular American pop song. It's a nice song, though. Watch the music video.

Pity Alfred, you guys. Stage fright suuuuucks. I have it terribly, whether it's actually on stage or just saying something in the middle of class - the struggle is real. Anyway, when I saw the update to the character settings I had to update this. I can finally add more characters to this story! Proper pairing and extra characters! Also, there is also a poll on my profile that's for my benefit. I'd appreciate a vote. Thank you for reading! I hope you like the new cover.


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